


Vohaul's True Revenge

by ThePrincessOfPirates



Category: Space Quest (Video Games)
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Face-Fucking, Fighting Kink, Frottage, Gags, Game Over, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Ryona, Space Quest 4, a little third wall breaking, all the violence is just bruising and emotional, gore free, rental bodies, so if you're sensitive to guts and stuff, that's not here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 18:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincessOfPirates/pseuds/ThePrincessOfPirates
Summary: Roger loses the fight with Vohaul.  Some game over sequences don't end with death.





	Vohaul's True Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't played Space Quest 4, this does have spoilers a plenty in it, so go play that really quick (or watch a play-through if you're on a time crunch) before you read this.

Why did all of these games have to end with some sudden death arcade style brawl? Why couldn't he just take the damn kid home and get back to where he came from or at least back to wherever that hot babe from Esteros went. But no, gotta wrestle on a tiny platform in the middle of a death pit.

“I'm not gonna let you win, Wilco!” Vohaul shoved him off, almost sending him reeling over the side. “I want to see you beg and whimper, like a kicked dog. I want to watch you suffer.” He picks Roger up by the collar of his shirt and slams him back down onto the metal ground, knocking the air out of him. He pulls the computer terminal up and presses some combination of buttons.

“Reformatting sequence terminated.” The feminine, computerized voice responds.

“Now that that's out of the way, let's get to business.” Vohaul runs a hand through the matted, sweaty mess of blonde hair on his head. “God, it's good to be young again. Even just one generation of separation from you does this body a world of good.”

“Quit pulling my leg, slime ball!” Roger can't muster up enough energy to even lift his head.

“Oh, you think I'm kidding?” Vohaul puts his boot up against Roger's throat, not quite pressing enough to really restrict air flow. “What purpose would I have to lie to you? This rental body is in fact your spawn as much as it disgusts me to say so. I've gotta say, whoever you must have roped into being his mother must not have been as miserable as you, he's got some physical attributes I could get used to. Care to take this body for a spin with me? I'm sure you won't enjoy what I have in mind.”

“Get off me, you disgusting fucker. I don't want to have anything to do with you or your disgusting plans.” Roger kicked and squirmed, causing Vohaul to just press harder on his windpipe.

“I wasn't actually asking for your consent, Roger.” He moves his foot just to kick Roger in the ribs. “I'd actually prefer if you fight, just makes it all the more fun for me.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” Roger winces, but doesn't fight, fearing another kick.

“Oh, screw you and your thick skull, you'll figure it out when you do, doesn't matter to me.” Vohaul gets a grip on his arms and tosses him around like a rag doll, pushing and hitting until Roger's right where he wants him.

“Don't manhandle me!” Roger grunts through grit teeth. Vohaul lands a solid punch in his gut.

“Don't talk back, janitor.” Vohaul struggles to keep the squirming mass of limbs down.

“That's janitor, second class to you.” Roger spits in the other man's face and the blue eyes burn back at him with revenge and hate.

“Quit being smug, no amount of snark will save you this time, Wilco.” Vohaul gives him a backhanded slap across the face. “This isn't some quick thinking puzzle, this is a drawn out game over sequence.”

“So what, you're gonna kill me? How creative.” Roger can feel the sting in his face but he's been through worse.

“I'd rather enjoy the wiles of youth at your expense, pretty boy.” Vohaul predatorily licked his lips. Well they weren't his, rental body and all that, but given the situation, the face that had elicited so much hope in Roger at the beginning of his adventure was starting to look more and more like that of his enemy.

“I don't follow.” The hands holding Roger's wrists to the ground tighten to crushing.

“I didn't expect you to, dimwit.” Vohaul grabs Roger's hair in a tight fist, causing the man under him to yelp. “Don't worry, I'm not some asshole who jumps right in, I do, however, like my foreplay a little rougher than most.”

The “kiss,” and I use that term loosely, that follows is more teeth than anything else, consisting entirely of spit and discomfort. Everything about it feels foreign and disgusting, and Roger's lungs burn like he's suffocating. Clammy, rough hands slide up his torso, under the now un-tucked shirt and over skin that is hotter than a summer's day in comparison.

“You're revolting.” Roger gags and wipes some of the saliva off his face with his shoulder. With Vohaul on top of him, his hands are essentially trapped behind his back. “Positively wretched.”

“That I am, and you better remember it.” Vohaul gives a good tough squeeze to Roger's cock, though it's just about as disinterested as he is. Which is to say, a little, but not head over heels. “You're going to be just as dirty as me. I'll rough you up and make you feel disgusting.” The attention's starting to get to him, the pain going right where it's not wanted.

“Do you like that, when I tell you how awful you are?” Vohaul doesn't ease up on the pressure. “When I remind you what an awful slut you are? How little you're worth to me. You're nothing but a thorn in my side, Wilco. A thorn that I'll keep as a trophy now that I've conquered you. You pathetic bitch, I'll give you what you so desire.”

“You-” Vohaul claps a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up. You're nothing but a ragdoll to me and I won't have a fucktoy talk back to me like that.” He rips a chunk out of Roger's shirt, improvising a gag rather quickly from the cloth and effectively silencing Roger for the time being. “Where were we? Ah, yes, you're nothing but a disposable play-thing that I can use to get my way.”

The man on top starts to shift things around, removing his weight and grabbing Roger's wrists to keep him restrained. Roger makes a muffled sound of protest as another strip is torn from his shirt and his hands are tied, awkwardly behind his back from the front.

There's a brush of overwhelming sensation and aching pain when Vohaul's thigh brushes the now more apparent bulge in his pants. The noise Roger makes is a pitiful groan and it catches Vohaul's attention, bringing it back to the real center of the action.

“You want to do that? We can do that.” He positions them so his thigh's more appropriately placed, better leverage. “Come on, it's not like you have any shame left to spare. I want to see you rub yourself against me like some uncontrollable animal.” Vohaul's fist lands hard on Roger's stomach. “Follow orders, dog.”

Roger moves his hips with half hearted intent, avoiding any actually pleasurable contact by shifting the friction off to the side. Vohaul manhandles him back into position, manually moving Roger's hips for him to give him a taste of the action. The butterflies in his stomach alight with frenzied vigor and he can't tell if he wants to scream, cry, vomit, or beg for more. So, he goes with it and it feels amazing and simultaneously absolutely disgusting, a feeling Roger never thought existed. He wants so badly to stop but he just knows he can't.

“There you go. Good boy.” Vohaul's hands trace circles on Roger's stomach, no longer covered by the tattered leftovers of a shirt.

Roger tries not to focus on what's around him, just on the simplified risk-reward system. He's not rubbing himself against his mortal enemy's thigh because he want's to, he's doing it so he won't get hit anymore. If he thinks about how it feels, how every inch of his skin feels like it's on fire, and how he's most definitely making the most pitiful noises through the spit soaked fabric, he gags, wretches a little at any thought of what this really is.

“I like you better when you can't talk. You moan like a bitch in heat. You're the picture perfect image of a slut.” Vohaul's ramblings are sounding more and more broken and Roger can see why. His cock, though partially hidden by the hand that's jerking it, looks impressive. Not impossible or cartoonish, but nothing to sneeze at. A respectable dick. A dick with a future.

“Kinda glad I picked him as a host. I never had anything quite so sizable even at my prime. Maybe later, once I've trained you well enough, I'll fuck you harder than you could ever imagine. You would love that, wouldn't you? I'd be so rough with you, you wouldn't be able to walk for days. Everyone on my ship will hear you screaming and begging either for more or for mercy, not like your cries will have any stake in how I treat you.” Vohaul pulls Roger up by his still intact collar, changing the angle and pressure of the friction, illiciting a surprised but not displeased gasp.

The bite to his neck that comes next hurts but not in the normal way. It's pain that goes right down to his gut, building on previous pressure.

“All mine...” Vohaul mumbles in his ear and bites at the flesh again, this time harder, breaking the skin. The straw that broke the camel's back, that final blow to his overstimulated senses, sends him tumbling over the edge with an incredible lack of grace as he ruins his untouched trousers in one heaving shudder.

He rests on the body in front of him for a moment but slumps to the ground when it pulls away.

Roger is completely tuckered out and spent, exhausted beyond belief. He resigns himself to his position on the floor, thinking of how nice just a quick nap would be once his heart stops trying to break out from his ribcage.

“You might be finished but I'm not. On your knees, dog.” Vohaul commands, waiting a moment before kicking Roger sharply in the head. Not so much as to cause any real damage, but enough to hurt. “I said on your knees!”

Roger weakly lifts himself up, struggling without use of his arms. Vohaul pulls him up the rest of the way by his hair.

“This is in the way...” He rips the gag out of Roger's mouth, giving him an opportunity to stretch his jaw. “Open wide pretty boy.”

The intrusion in his mouth is significantly larger than comfortable and it makes his eyes water. Vohaul tries to force him down further but his throat clenches up.

“Come on, it's not that hard.” He pinches Roger's nostrils closed, waiting for him to have to take a breath. It takes a moment before his hammering heart finally deprives him of enough oxygen that he can't keep himself from inhaling and it's really his downfall. He still doesn't have all of it in his mouth but it's enough to be incredibly uncomfortable especially with it what feels like halfway down his throat already.

“Swallow.” Vohaul's voice is soaked in venomous intent and he pulls Roger's hair even harder and tighter. “You can do it!” It's more anger than encouragement but it gets the point across and Roger obeys, finally maneuvering the last few inches into his esophagus.

“Good boy. You're so talented, aren't you!” His voice is incredibly sarcastic and mocking, but his breathing is starting to sound labored under the stress. He twists his hands in Roger's hair, getting as firm of a grip as possible and pulls him away.

The janitor gasps for breath, wheezing only momentarily before his head is shoved back to it's original position rather forcefully.

“Mmm, I could get used to this...” Vohaul moves Roger's head, bobbing up and down at a rough pace. “God, I might keep you around just for your mouth. You're absolutely perfect, just supremely amazing.” Vohaul picks up the pace, jerking Roger's head around disorientingly fast. “You're a beautiful little slut and you're all mine now. You're mine to play with as I please. Fuck-” He pushes in as far as he can, further than before, pressing Roger's nose flat up against his stomach causing him to choke. “I'm gonna fuck you silly, Wilco, and you're going to hate every minute of it.” The grip on his head tightens painfully as the body above him shakes violently with climax.

When Vohaul finally releases him Roger gags and heaves until he coughs up all the traces left in his mouth.

“Get used to the taste, kid, it's not gonna stop soon.”

Roger pukes over the edge of the platform for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my docs for weeks and only now did I jam enough caffeine in my system on accident that I had the energy to finish it up so here it is. I've got a lot of other fics on the verge of being finished (some of them are SQ too) so this might be a rather fruitful week. Tell me how I did, I want tom make sure I portrayed this correctly.


End file.
